


You And What Army?

by A_M_Kelley



Category: The Warriors (1979), The Warriors (Yurick) - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Humor if you squint long enough, Introspection, Makeup, New York, Not Canon Compliant, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_M_Kelley/pseuds/A_M_Kelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swan reflects on his decision to join The Warriors and ends up inspiring a mysterious young man to make an army of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And What Army?

**Author's Note:**

> Thurman is the Baseball Furies' leader.
> 
> Almost didn't post this because I wasn't very satisfied with it. Oh, well... You win some, you lose some.

It wasn't that long ago and it happened before Swan was an official member of The Warriors. It was Halloween night and Swan was walking aimlessly across town, much like any other night, when he found himself over in Riverside. It wasn't uncommon to get side tracked and Swan wasn't particularly concerned about getting lost. He knew the city quite well just from studying the subway train maps.

This was a relatively nice neighborhood, no one had taken it over yet, and as Swan walked down the street he saw parents escorting their children door to door in search of candy. Luckily for them it wasn't as cold as it could've been. Swan looks on with envy because he can't remember a time in his childhood when things seemed so innocent or care free. He can't remember dressing up and having his mother take him out.

He suddenly wishes now that he stayed in Coney. Maybe Cleon and Vermin were having a party or at least had alcohol and either of those sounded way better than walking nowhere on purpose. Swan didn't know what he was trying to do or prove on these long and pointless walks, perhaps he was waiting for something to happen. Something interesting.

Maybe he'll just take off...

Swan decides to ditch his loses and just go home. He leaves the main road, dodging kids dressed up as monsters as the run past giggling, and makes his way to Riverside Park. Swan figures he can get to the next station faster by cutting across the park instead of wasting time going around. It can be dangerous walking in a park at night but Swan is confident enough that he can handle himself if he has to.

He trots down the stairs, taking a look around cautiously but not too overly paranoid. He wasn't afraid of getting mugged because he was usually the one doing the mugging, and Swan wasn't too proud of that, but on Halloween you never knew. Still, if he had to rumble Swan was fully prepared to do so at the drop of a hat. He wasn't about to be made in the middle of a park in a neighborhood he didn't even live in.

The walk through Riverside Park was fairly quiet, the only sound was that of the city being carried on the wind. Swan liked the sound of the city. It calmed him and gave him peace of mind on nights like this when he was searching for something more in life. The cool air and his body being in motion really centered Swan when he was in an indifferent mood.

It was in this moment when Swan began to consider Cleon's offer after all. It was brought to Swan's attention that Cleon and Vermin left The Destroyers for good when they were double crossed by their supposed friend and leader, Virgil. Swan always told Cleon that Virgil was a snake in the grass but no one wanted to believe him, especially since Cleon treated Virgil like a brother.

But after it was all said and done, Cleon extended an invitation just for Swan to join his new and upcoming gang The Warriors. Swan said he'd consider it under one condition as long as he was able to bring Cowboy along as well. But Swan hadn't actually thought of Cleon's offer until now. There were pros and cons of joining a gang. Walking at night would be more dangerous since cops and rival gangs would want a piece of him but Swan would also be a part of a family that was loyal to each other no matter what.

In the end, the pros outweighed the cons as far as Swan was concerned.

Swan wasn't aware of how far he actually got, getting lost in his own musings, until he got to the edge of the park and saw the stairs leading out onto the street. It was a mix of relief and disappointment for Swan, seeing as that he was actually starting to enjoy his walk, but he had other things to worry about right now. Like the guy sitting alone of the bench along the pathway.

Swan would have to go past him if he wanted to make it to the other side of the park. It was the first person Swan saw since he decided to go through the park and he looked a little sketchy, albeit it was Halloween. It was a young man around Swan's age, he was guessing, dressed up in a baseball uniform that closely resembled that of The Yankees. There was something on his face, then again it could've just been the shadows cast by his baseball cap.

Swan keeps walking at his own calm pace and as he approaches the man sitting alone in his baseball garb he can make out the bright yellow and black makeup covering his face. His whole face is painted yellow with the exception of black lipstick and a dark circle over his left eye that is supposed to resemble a black eye. It's visually captivating even for Halloween.

In a few seconds Swan will be face to face with this resident of Riverside and he doesn't know whether to be worried or compliment the guy's costume. If it is a costume. Swan slows down to a stop right in front of the man and puts his hands in his pockets, waiting for the other to look up at him. When the man does peer up at Swan he's taken a little aback by his presence.

"So, what are you supposed to be?" Swan asks curiously, making sure to keep his tone neutral and not coming off as a mock.

The man with the painted face just stares at Swan for what seems like a long time, keeping his black lips in a hard line, like he's contemplating the question. It's a simple question that instigates small talk but the man is too caught up in Swan's features illuminated by the lamp post to respond quickly.

"Oh, uh, I'm a baseball player," the man tells him slowly, kicking himself for pointing out the obvious.

Swan simply nods. It's painfully clear, then again he shouldn't have asked a stupid question, but this doesn't seem to deter Swan's neutrality though since he's quite patient.

"What's with the makeup?"

It's quite an odd factor to add to the whole baseball player persona and Swan is genuinely curious of the touch. If Swan were to be honest though he seriously thought that maybe this guy was in a gang and if he wasn't he certainly should've been. The look was a classic but completely original in it's own way and Swan really dug the theme going on. It separated him from the rest of the gangs.

"Me and my friends are on the same baseball team but we all wanted to do something different and painted our faces," the guy shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant when really all he wanted to do was stare. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm Swan," he says, knowing that his answer is not the one that was asked of him but it was the truth. He was just Swan, like any other night.

The guy takes this as a joke, grinning wide enough to bear his teeth which starkly contrasts from his black lipstick. Swan wasn't exactly trying to be funny but he's all for breaking the ice even if it was on accident.

"Well, in that case I'm Thurman," he introduces, sticking his hand out and looking up from underneath the bill of his hat almost bashfully. "Never seen you here before."

"I'm not from around here," Swan states casually, taking Thurman's hand. They shake briefly and Swan has to admire the graceful-like manner of Thurman's hand shake. Not firm, but not weak.

"I live just on Claremont Avenue myself," Thurman comments, letting go of Swan's hand reluctantly. "Do you wanna sit down?"

Thurman gestures for Swan to take a seat next to him and at first Swan is a little iffy. Thurman frowns slightly at Swan's lack of trust but it's what's expected of him. They only just met. But Swan is polite enough to at least amuse him by sitting down next to Thurman.

"Where are you from?"

"Coney."

"Coney?" Thurman inquires curiously. "What the hell are you doing all the way down here in Riverside?"

"Am I invading or somethin'?" Swan assumes more defensively than he should.

"Oh, no! It's not that!" Thurman gushes in reassurance, fearing he may have insulted Swan. He suddenly gets nervous because Swan looks like someone you don't want to mess with. "Just seems a little far and out of the way for you..."

"Sometimes I walk to clear my head."

"I play ball to clear my head," Thurman adds, breathing in deeply as he reminisces about green grass and the neighborhood diamond. "Or I just come here."

There is an intermission in their conversation and it's the first time Swan realizes just how blue Thurman's eyes are. The yellow and black makeup makes them pop out more in comparison and it's takes Swan by surprise for a moment. He also realizes that he has no idea what Thurman really looks like and it adds to the growing curiosity of this mysterious man.

"You get a lot of trouble down here?" Swan asks after a beat.

He watches Thurman's face go through a series of facial expressions, ranging from contemplation to contempt to resignation. Swan's seen this look before on far too many people's faces and he never gets used to it. It saddens him to see a neighborhood go to hell because of some jerks who are greedy for power and control over the less fortunate. Then again, that used to be them.

"We get our fair share. Just like any other place," Thurman sighs like he's used to it, and he is. "They come armying down here, boosting cars, trashing stores... Typical things, really."

"Maybe you should do something about it," Swan suggests, showing contempt for all those assholes disturbing an area without an army.

"What? Like fight back?" Thurman scoffs, shaking his head at the absurdity of such a suggestion. "There's too many of them and it's not worth it."

"Recruit then. You can't let everyone just come here and bully you. You need to defend your neighborhood."

"You mean, start a gang? Have you looked at me lately?" Thurman laughs, selling himself short. "I'm not exactly intimidating."

"Are you kidding me?" Swan asks baffled, turning to face Thurman. "The makeup alone is enough to unsettle someone. Maybe not tonight since it's Halloween but on any other given night, sure. And I'll tell ya something right now, you already have your mark. The whole baseball theme is pretty intimidating. All you need is a bat and then you'll be set."

"Really?" Thurman asks hopefully, face lighting up and black stained lips curling into another grin. "You actually think we'd make it?"

"Those other guys don't stand a chance," Swan murmurs ardently, smiling warmly at Thurman.

"Well, in that case how would you like to be the first member?" Thurman offers enthusiastically, knowing the answer is going to be no anyway.

"I appreciate it but I'm sorta already in a gang. Nothing too official but I have a good feeling," Swan declines politely.

"I understand."

Somehow it's gotten much colder since Swan has been sitting here and he's suddenly moved closer to Thurman by reflex. Maybe it was his body seeking out warmth since he forgot his jacket or maybe it was an unconscious desire of his. There was no doubt in Swan's mind that he was oddly intrigued by Thurman and perhaps a little taken by him.

They both decide to look over at each other at the same moment and when they lock eyes briefly they quickly turn their heads the other way.

"Well, I gotta get back to Coney," Swan says regrettably as he stands up before anything further can happen, hating the put off little black frown that embellishes Thurman's features.

"I won't keep you then," Thurman concedes, standing up to leave as well. Swan makes to turn away but Thurman adds, "Hey Swan!"

Swan turns to face Thurman to see the odd man painted in yellow and black smiling warmly. There's something endearing and promising about that smile that makes Swan's stomach flutter.

"Don't let me catch you on my turf again!" Thurman warns, but it's half-hearted at best and Swan knows he doesn't mean it. "Or else!"

"Oh, yeah? You gonna wreck me or somethin' if I don't?" Swan asks sarcastically, smiling subtly.

"Yeah."

"You and what army?" Swan remarks slyly before turning to leave. Somehow this encounter has left a warm feeling all throughout him.

Thurman grins. _Touché _, he thinks.__


End file.
